


Beyond

by Kendall



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendall/pseuds/Kendall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thought it would be just a night alone at his high school dance he was very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond

The sun is just making its way behind the mountains when Stiles notices the stranded motorist. He’s on this crazy, winding road hardly anyone uses, so he knows no one else will be by to help anytime soon. He only thinks of driving on by for a moment, excitement for the Homecoming dance at school making him antsy, but Stiles is a good kid. Besides, the driver doesn’t look dangerous, appearing to be about Stiles’ age, so he pulls over in front of the beaten up car.  
“Slide off the road?” He asks, approaching the boy with little trepidation. The stranger smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
“Yeah, I don’t think I can get her running again,” he says, gesturing to the crumpled front fender and smoking hood.  
Stiles lets out a long whistle. “You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt,” he says, looking the boy up and down. He’s wearing this faded Nirvana shirt, his hair artfully messy.  
“Yeah, lucky,” the stranger replies.   
“Does your cell not get any bars out here?”  
“What?”  
“Your cell phone,” Stiles says, pulling his own phone from his pocket, seeing that there is indeed no service.   
“Oh, yeah, no, I don’t have one.” He leans against the car door, crosses his arms over his chest. “We can’t afford something like that.”  
Stiles finds the statement a little odd. Doesn’t everyone need a cell phone? A prepaid one for emergencies can’t be that expensive. He shrugs it off, walks over to the car.  
“This is a pretty cool car, man. Sorry it got mangled.”  
“I know, right? I worked hard for this thing, too,” he says, turning around and kicking the tire. “Bought it almost brand new.”  
It’s an older, boxy model Honda Civic, and Isaac can tell there were a lot of custom parts on it just from a glance. “You work on cars?”  
“Yeah, a little,” he answers.  
It’s getting dark now, the naked branches casting long shadows over the road. The wind picks up, groaning through the foliage surrounding them. Isaac feels an unexplainable chill creep up his spine, and he pulls his coat closer around him.  
“You must be cold. Can I take you somewhere?” The boy’s face lights up at the suggestion. Isaac warms a little.  
“That would be great. I’m Scott McCall, by the way. I was actually headed to the dance at school.” He extends his palm for Stiles to shake. Stiles takes his hand and it’s ice, but Stiles heats up even more, a cold-crack of lightning.  
“Stiles,” he replies. “How long have you been out here, Scott?”  
Scott laughs. “A long time.”  
“Are you sure you shouldn’t go home and call a tow truck?”  
“No. I really just want to go to the dance. Will you take me?” Scott moves in closer to Isaac, ducks his head so their faces are more level, raising his eyebrows in question.  
Stiles can’t help but smile; he doesn’t think he’s imagining the subtle flirtation behind the request. He doesn’t question the fact he’s never seen this guy before. He doesn’t question the fact the high school is small and he’s sure he would remember a face like Scott’s. He doesn’t often find cute boys who flirt with him in his small town of Beacon Hills.  
“Of course.”  
\-------  
“…and that’s how I wound up in the middle of the park in nothing but my underwear,” Stiles says between bursts of laughter.  
It’s like Scott hasn’t stopped smiling at Stiles since they drove away from his car. Stiles respects the fact Scott seems to have lightened up so much so soon after ruining his vehicle. And it’s like he’s hanging on every word Stiles says, Scott watching Stiles’ mouth and eyes as he shares stories about his best friends – Isaac and Danny.  
“Oh, snap! Your friends sound so rude.” Scott laughs, the words spoken with fondness. “I wish I could meet them.”  
“You can,” Stiles starts. “They’ll be at the dance.”  
Scott’s smile fades a little, but only for a moment. “Hey, what kind of music do you think they’ll play?”  
Stiles is amused by Scott’s sudden emotional shifts, rising and falling like a button pressed on an elevator. “Probably just pop, don’t you think? Whatever’s easiest to get.”  
“Pop, huh?”  
“Yeah, you know, like, Adele and Katy Perry. “  
Stiles pulls into the school, shuts off the engine to the car.  
“Ready to go in? Sure you’re up for it?” Stiles asks, reaching for the door handle. Scott stops Stiles by grabbing his hand. Once again, Stiles feels that jolt, like Scott is made of energy and cool snow.  
“Hey, Stiles.” Scott runs his thumb across the outside of Stiles’ hand, and Stiles is surprised at how forward Scott is being, especially in this backwoods place. Not that Stiles minds. At all. “I just want to say thank you, if I haven’t said that already. I was beginning to think…” He looks down at their hands. “You’re so warm.”  
“You were thinking of how warm I was?”  
Scott chuckles. “No, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck out there forever.”  
They’re so close in the enclosed space of the car, and Stiles notices just how good Scott smells, like peppermint. He’s looking at Stiles with so much gratitude, and his eyes are bright and the most beautiful shade of brown compared to the pale skin of his face. Stiles wants to just lean in and kiss him, but that would be crazy, because he’s only known him an hour.  
Instead he says, “It’s a good thing I came along then.” He smiles. “Let’s go in.”  
\-------  
“Hey, Stiles!” Danny greets upon seeing him. He and Scott have been milling about the dance floor and refreshment table for a good half-hour, Stiles growing fonder of the stranger the more they talk. There’s something about him, some freshness and awe on his face that Stiles finds completely endearing. They’ve talked about lacrosse and silly pranks they’ve pulled. It’s so easy Stiles is beginning to think he’s dreaming.  
“Hey!” Stiles shouts, noticing Isaac trailing behind Danny. “You guys come meet Scott.” Isaac gestures beside him and looks to where Scott was just standing, the smile on his face fading when Scott isn’t there.  
“Who?” Isaac asks once they’ve reached Stiles from across the crowded room.  
“That’s weird,” Stiles says. “He was just standing right here. Oh, well, you guys can meet him later. How’s it going?”  
“Nuh uh,” Danny chimes, “who’s this ‘guy’, huh?” He playfully elbows Stiles in the ribs.  
Stiles feels dumb for it, but a blush colors his cheeks. “Just this guy who was having some car trouble.”  
“I don’t know how safe it is to pick up strangers,” Isaac says, always the logical voice of reason.   
“Shutup, dude,” Stiles interrupts. “He’s our age. He goes to school here, but I guess maybe he’s new? He needed help, and I was just being hospitable.” Funny, they hadn’t seemed to really discuss whether or not Scott just moved to town, but from the way Scott talked, he’d lived in the area a long time, if not his whole life.  
“I think Isaac meant to say, just be careful, ‘Stiles.” Danny starts to move to the beat of the heavy bass in the air. “Now, let’s go dance!”  
“You guys go ahead. I’m gonna find Scott.”  
“Come find us when you do, yeah?” Isaac gives Stiles a long look with raised eyebrows.  
“I’ll do my best. See ya, guys.” Stiles walks off with a wave, scanning the crowd in the low light for that crazy head of hair. He doesn’t have to search long, finding Scott by the DJ table with wide eyes.  
“Hey, Scott!” Stiles shouts over the loud music. Scott turns to him and smiles.  
“Do you see this computer?” Scott asks, pointing at the laptop the DJ has open.  
“Yeah?” Stiles shakes his head in confusion. It’s a pretty cool laptop, but nothing spectacular.  
“The screen is so wide, but look how skinny it is!”  
Stiles grabs Scott by the hand, lips moved apart in a full grin. He’s decided Scott is way too sheltered. “You should see my friend Danny’s computer. That’s nothing.”  
“Wow. Is he rich?”  
“Um, no? Yeah? I don’t know. Come dance with me and my friends!” Stiles nearly demands, tugging Scott into the crowd as they both laugh, Stiles already beginning to move to the beat of the music.  
He finds his friends easily, and – deciding they can save the introductions for later – the four boys begin dancing as a group. It’s fun and thrilling and Stiles is practically giddy, the flashing lights casting Scott’s angled face in shadow and light, shadow and light. He starts to think there was some kind of weird fated thing that had him on that road Scott was stranded, because how else can he explain the way everything is just clicking together?  
They dance to the fast-paced music until Stiles is thirsty. “I’m going to get a drink.”  
“I’ll go with you,” Scott shouts in return, giving a wary glance toward Danny and Isaac.  
Once they’re safely out of the crowd and Stiles has taken a long gulp of punch, he says to Scott, breathless, “You don’t have to be nervous around them,” he nods back to the boys still dancing, “Danny and Isaac. They’re nice guys.”  
“Oh, I’m not nervous,” Scott replies, looking down to his beaten up shoes. Those must be uncomfortable, Stiles thinks. “I just want to spend more time with you. Can I spend more time with you?”   
And there’s that hopeful, happy look on Scott’s face again, and Stiles melts a little more. “Sure,” he says, “let’s go sit.”  
\------  
They lose track of time, and the DJ announces the last dance. “Here’s a slow one for the final song of the night, guys, an oldie but goodie.” The first few notes start to play and Stiles groans.  
“Aw, I love this song, but you can’t tell anybody that,” Scott groans.  
Stiles tilts his head as the lyrics start, trying to recall if he knows it. It’s something his baby sitter used to listen to when he was so very small; he remembers her playing it as she got dinner ready at some point in his blurry childhood memories. “Ah, I’ll Stand by You, right? The Pretenders? It’s a sweet song.”  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.”  
“Hey, Stiles, w-would you want to dance with me, maybe?” Scott asks. Of course, Stiles can’t just say no, but there are so many stupid kids who go to this school. He doesn’t want to draw attention.  
“Um, I’d love to, but – “  
“Shit, I’m sorry, you’re probably gonna punch me in the face now. I’m sorry, geez, I’ve just been out of it so long – “  
“Scott, stop,” Stiles laughs. “This is such a small town, and I don’t want people to give us a hard time.”  
“Oh, yeah, I’m so dumb. You’ve gotta understand, I’m just – “  
“Stop apologizing.” Stiles stands and tugs Scott to his feet. “Let’s go in the hallway. We can still hear the music from there.”  
Relief floods Scott’s face as he smiles. “Sounds great.”   
They make their way into a low-lit, empty hallway, the music echoing off the corners and rumbling through the metal lockers flanking the walls. There are scattered decorations, streamers and posters, moving eerily in the breeze from the double doors left open in a wide yawn. Scott doesn’t hesitate in pulling Stiles close, arms going around him in more of an embrace than a dance pose.  
Stiles doesn’t mind, he snuggles in and buries his face in the crook of Scott’s neck and breathes in the crispness of his skin, trying to will some of his warmth into the other boy.  
“This is nice,” Scott says, beginning to gently sway, Stiles feeling like he fits perfectly against Scott’s body.  
“It is,” Stiles hums, squeezing Scott just a little tighter. The music continues to fill the space, hauntingly melodic, lyrics echoing back as new ones are sung creating this lingering cacophony of notes.  
“I do love this song,” Scott breathes, lips pressing into Stiles’s hair, moving to his forehead and leaving a lasting press of lips.  
“I think I do too,” Stiles replies.  
They move to the melody long after the music stops.  
\------  
“I had a great time tonight, Scott,” Stiles says. They’re at Scott’s house, all the windows dark and looming. It’s like the whole front of Scott’s house is made of windows, the deep, dark night staring back at them. That unexplainable chill worms its way through Stiles for the second time tonight, but he wills it away and takes Scott’s hand.  
“Me too,” Scott replies. He tries to smile at Stiles but it falls as quickly as it appeared.  
Stiles thinks Scott is sad because the night is over, and he can totally understand that, because he isn’t thrilled about parting either. “Can I get your number?”  
“I don’t have a cell phone, remember?” He avoids Stiles’s eyes, glancing out the window.  
“Oh, yeah.” Stiles feels discouraged for about half a second before he starts, “Well, you have a home phone, ri – “  
Scott cuts him off by surging forward and pressing his lips to Stiles’s.  
There’s this shock of surprise at first, because that current is there as soon as their mouths meet, but Stiles doesn’t let it phase him long. He’s soon returning the kiss with equal fervor, parting his lips for Scott’s tongue.  
And Scott’s lips are as cold as his hands, but he’s delicious like slushies’ or ice cream or snowflakes on Stiles’ tongue. Stiles reaches out and slides his hands down Scott’s chest to his stomach and can’t believe Scott’s heart isn’t pounding like his own.   
Scott reaches out too, kissing Stiles like he’s a lifeline, like once their lips part he’ll disappear. He slips his hands under Stiles’ shirt, the frosty temperature making Stiles jolt a tiny amount. Stiles’ small movement seemed to be enough to be noticeable, because Scott reluctantly pulls away from him, frowning. He looks at Stiles’ lips before bringing an index finger to trace the line of Stiles smile. He leans in and presses his lips to Stiles again, once, twice, three times before leaving a final, lingering, chaste kiss.  
The frown is still there and Stiles can’t understand why. He feels like he’s high as a kite, dizzy from the feeling surging between them, or maybe the lack of oxygen.  
“Thank you, Stiles.” Scott says, unable to resist the urge to lean in and take another kiss. “For everything,” he finishes.  
Before Stiles can say another word, Scott is out of the car. Stiles takes several moments to calm down, breathing in and out with a stupid grin smeared on his face. He realizes he never got that phone number from Scott, but when he looks up to see if he can catch the other boy, he’s already disappeared.  
\------  
Stiles didn’t want to go knocking on Scott’s door when it was so late just to ask for his number, and he thought he could simply search the other boy out at school the following day.  
He wakes super early, ready to get the day started so he can see Scott again. When he gets to school, he asks around about him, but no one seems to know who he’s talking about. Stiles is getting exceedingly frustrated when he sits down to lunch with his two best friends.  
“Stiles!” Isaac greets as he sits down with them. “Why didn’t we get to meet the mysterious Scott?”  
Despite his frustration, Stiles grins. “Sorry I didn’t get to formally introduce you guys, but it was so loud on that dance floor I didn’t think it would work. What did you think though? He’s cute, yeah?”  
“Man, what are you talking about? You didn’t even let us see him,” Danny complains.  
“We all danced together for, like, half an hour, dude. How could you not have checked him out in that timeframe?”  
Danny raises his eyebrows, giving Stiles an incredulous, confused look. “Never saw him.”  
“You’ve got to be shitting me Nirvana shirt? Black jeans? Stunningly brown eyes?”  
“I didn’t notice him either, Stiles,” Isaac interjects, his expression mirroring Danny’s.  
“Sounds like his fashion is horribly out of date,” Danny mumbles.  
“You guys are blind. Anyway, I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”  
“Are you sure he even exists?” Isaac laughs.  
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Stiles replies, the memory of Scott’s mouth still fresh on his lips.  
\------  
Stiles decides to just go by Scott’s house and talk to him. He’s getting confused and hurt and a little sad, wondering if he did dream up the whole thing. It had seemed much too good to be true, an absolute stranger turned into something so much more in the span of one evening.  
He feels a little silly and pathetic as he walks up the door, but he couldn’t have imagined the way Scott looked at him; the way Scott kissed him like the world would end if he didn’t.  
After knocking on the door, Stiles nervously straightens his shirt, takes a deep breath. It takes a long time before he hears footsteps, his heart skipping a beat as the door opens. He’s surprised to see a older woman answer, maybe fifty six or so, and she looks at him with a questioning glance.  
“Yes?” She leans against the doorframe.  
Stiles takes a thick swallow. “Is S-Scott here?”  
The woman’s expression goes hard in an instant, and she moves outside fully, looking inside with a furtive glance before shutting the door behind her.  
“What the fuck is this?” she whispers, rage so clear she is near trembling.  
“W-What do you mean? I was just wondering if S-Sco – “  
“Scott, my son, has been dead for sixteen years. Sixteen years as of last night. Now you can imagine, asshole, this is a really goddamn bad time for me, and this is a really fucking sick prank. You can leave. Right the fuck now.” She’s seething and Stiles can’t move. Did she say dead? Sixteen years?  
“How did he… I don’t understand…” Stiles apparently can’t think either or form complete sentences.   
“You don’t need to. Now leave before I make you.” With that, she goes in, slamming the door behind her.  
\------  
He must’ve had the wrong house, the wrong Scott.  
Stiles enlists Danny’s help with the research, because that’s Danny’s thing. It really only takes a simple Google search with Scott’s full name, the year and their city and state.  
Danny keeps looking at Stiles like he’s gone crazy, and Stiles thinks maybe he’s right until he pulls up the images of the mangled car from the local newspaper, the car Stiles saw only the night before. Soon enough, there’s a smiling picture of Scott. It’s him and he’s beautiful and perfect and happy and whole, but he’s really not anymore. Because he’s dead. Died in a car accident on October 15th, 1995.  
Stiles is cold, cold, cold, despite the stupid hot tears he can’t stop leaking from his eyes, despite Danny’s arm wrapping around his shoulders.  
“I believe whatever you tell me, Stiles,” Danny says, “but maybe it’s not the same guy.”  
“It’s the same, Danny. I don’t know how or why, but it’s him.”  
Stiles would recognize those eyes anywhere.  
Still, even as years go by, Stiles takes that old, winding road, especially on October 15th if he can, some unfinished business drawing him in, some feeling of longing creeping down his spine, curling in his stomach like unexplained chills, a bolt of cold lightning, the loss of someone he never really knew.  
Sometimes, when the sun has barely slipped behind the mountains and the low light is just right, Stiles swears he sees a flash of brown in his peripheral vision, blinking at him from the passenger seat.   
He can never quite catch it.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf. Bonus points if you know what legend this is based on.


End file.
